


It’s All over Now, Baby Blue

by clairvoyantrat



Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, George Needs a Hug, M/M, Midlife Crisis, Modern AU, Old men falling in love mwah, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, artist bob:), barista bob, bob does too so it’s perfect, george what are you doing, honestly what does he not do, the Beatles are worried pls calm down, theyre sad, tom bestie, when did Bob become so nice??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairvoyantrat/pseuds/clairvoyantrat
Summary: George leaves home after a breakup and ends up on a plane to New York. Bob lets him sleep at his place.
Relationships: Bob Dylan/George Harrison
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey :-) I’ve had the idea for this story for quite some time now, so I decided to finally write my thoughts down! :D I feel like there’s not enough works for this ship, and I’ve been feeling very motivated to write lately, so... I hope you like this fic. It’s going to be a bit longer & I don’t know if I’ll be able to update regularly, but I’ll try!!
> 
> Also, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. & this story is fictional and in no way meant to hurt/offend any of the people in it. They also might be a little out of character at times?
> 
> That’s it for now<3 Please enjoy!

George had never packed his backpack so fast before. In fact, he didn’t even care about what he shoved into it - the only thing he could think about was leaving. Leaving this house, leaving this city, maybe leaving the country if he was lucky. That, and the unbearable pain pounding in the front of his head that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. 

The past days were pure hell for George. Every silly little thing reminded him of her - if he’d stayed in this house for just a second longer, he would have gone mad for sure. All the pictures on the walls, the television they had bought together, hell, even his guitars that she hated so much.

It confused him so much. How something seemingly perfect could end in just the blink of an eye. Maybe he was just too blind to see the signs.

He remembered grabbing all the money he still had left and rushing out to call a taxi. Without thinking too much about it, he’d jumped off after about an hour when they reached Manchester Airport.

It was the headache, he thought. It made him forget about the rest, because now he found himself stumbling out of an airport in New York City with barely any money and a backpack that seemed about to explode from all the stuff he had in there. The worst thing was that he couldn’t even remember how or when he got the plane ticket.

Looking at all the people in business clothes passing by, George realized how out of place he really felt. Everyone looked like they were on the run, and a few hours before, George would have been able to blend in perfectly. Now though, he could barely stand without his eyes feeling heavy. Struggling to keep them open, he went looking for a quieter place, which turned out to be almost impossible - why, out of all cities, had he decided to go to New York City? 

After a while, George gave up and opened the door to a small cafe in a narrow street he had found by following wherever his feet took him. It seemed like a cozy little place, with all the plants and fairy lights. When he sat down on one of the many beanbags, he noticed the slight smell of coffee and the radio that was quietly playing in the background.

For the first time in a few days, he could relax. The only thing he’d needed was change, he thought, and staying somewhere else had been the first thing that came to mind. Though America wasn’t exactly what he originally had planned, it wasn’t going too bad. Besides the fact that he was terribly exhausted, of course... Jet lag wasn’t something he had thought about when he went on his little trip.

George felt something pulling on his arm, scaring him awake. “Lord, what on earth-?”, he blurted out. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but when he turned his head to look outside, the sky was pitch black. Now that was embarrassing.

George flinched when he heard a calm voice, “I didn’t want to scare you.” He turned his head again to look right into the blue eyes of the man kneeling in front of him.

Immediately, he tried to suck up as much of his appearance as he possibly could. George found that people’s looks could tell a lot about them as a person. The first thing that struck his eye were the man‘s dark curls that stood up in every possible direction. Even though his hair covered his ears almost completely, there were big, dangling earrings peeking through. He had a few slight wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, George assumed he was about his age. Besides the wrinkles though, there were dark circles under his eyes; he looked just as tired as George felt.

“I just... we’re closing in a minute and, uh, you can’t stay here for the whole night, y’know.” The man interrupted George’s train of thought and got up to make space for him.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry for falling asleep here,” he mumbled while rubbing his eyes. “Been a tiring day.” He looked up at the man who woke him up, realizing that he was the only other person left in the cafe.

“No worries,” he replied with a smile that made his eyes crinkle a bit. “Uh, can you hurry up a little though? Wanna get out of here as soon as possible.”

George felt his face flush. “Course.” He got up and grabbed his backpack, quickly settling it on his shoulders.

“I’m Bob, by the way,” the man said while he fiddled with his keys.

“George.”

Bob didn’t bother to reply, and instead gave George a slight smile as he held the door open for him. He rushed out and watched Bob close the door.

“Whatcha doing with that backpack?” Bob hid his hands in the pockets of the working clothes he was wearing, which, if George was being honest, didn’t suit him at all. Judging from his face alone, he didn’t even look like he’d work in a cafe in the first place.

George shrugged. “Dunno honestly. Just packed everything I could find.” He giggled softly.

“Ah, that reminds me, I wanted to say you’ve got a cool accent. Where’s it from?” Bob looked up at him, and George only now realized that he was actually taller than him. In fact, it was Bob’s hair that made him appear taller than he actually was.

“Uh, Liverpool?” George asked, as if he didn’t know where he was from. He wasn’t used to being asked about his accent, but maybe he should have thought about it before he took a flight to America.

Bob nodded, a smirk spreading out on his lips. “Fancy. How long you been here?”

“A few hours,” George laughed.

“Oh,” the smaller man slightly hit his forehead with his palm, “That makes sense. Uhm, do you, like, have a hotel or something? Somewhere to go?” He looked up to the sky. “It’s late.”

George had never really thought that far. “Uh, I don’t, actually... I’ll make it work though. I guess. If i find something.” A nervous chuckle left his lips. 

Bob shook his head. “You don’t get into hotels around here that easily if you haven’t booked a room. The only cheap ones you can get right now are probably dirty and smell like shit, I doubt that you want that... You can come with me if you want?”

“Oh, uh,” he didn’t know what to say. “I mean that’s really nice and all, but you don’t have- I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Uh, you could say no of course, but I wouldn’t want anyone to have to sleep in the streets of New York,” Bob laughed.

Well, he had a point. If George had been younger, he probably would have worried about Bob wanting to kill him in his sleep. But right now, the only thing he worried about was that he really needed a place to sleep. And he probably wasn’t going to meet someone as friendly as Bob any time soon. “Alright then, let’s go?”

Bob showed him the way to his car a few minutes from the cafe. They didn’t exchange any words on the way there, but George felt it was a comfortable silence. It wasn’t too cold either, and even though there were still many people walking around here and there, it was a nice night. After all the trouble, he wouldn’t have considered New York to be the best place to help him relax.

The first time either of them spoke up again was when they made themselves comfortable in Bob’s car. “What kinda music d’you listen to?”, Bob asked, turning his head to George.

“Uh, old music. Rock and Roll, Rhythm and Blues... That kind of stuff.” George smiled. He had his own little band with a few friends back home in England. They weren’t very successful, but playing with them never failed to make George’s heart fill up with happiness. “I enjoy anything though.”

Bob nodded, “Mind if I put on some folk music?”

Folk music. Bob didn’t look like he’d enjoy that genre, but then again - he didn’t look like anything he did. “Play whatever you want,” George smiled. “It’s your car after all.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel uncomfy because of the music or something,” Bob muttered as he leaned backwards to grab a bag stored in the backseat. He pulled out a CD that had ‘Car tunes’ written on it in a messy handwriting. He let the bag fall back in place and put on the CD.

The ‘car tunes’ turned out to be a lot more than just folk music. They were some good classic rock songs and even old Rock and Roll songs George had already forgotten about, too.

He watched the time as they drove past a lot of big houses, malls or even skyscrapers. After about twenty minutes, Bob turned to pass a bridge, and George couldn’t help but think back at him plotting to kill him. The sudden change in landscape didn’t exactly help in forgetting about it. All the big houses were gone, most of what you could see out the car window were parks - lots of trees, lots of grass, lots of green.

It must have been a good hour after passing the bridge when Bob suddenly pulled the brake. When he looked around, George found they had stopped in a small neighborhood with quite a few houses around. He couldn’t see much due to the darkness, but the one in front of them looked like a classic suburban house, though it was rather small. The welcoming feel of it made George relax a little.

Bob pushed open the car door and stepped out. “So, this is my house,” he said, his hands buried in his pants’ pockets again. “You can come out,” he added with a laugh, “I won’t eat you or anything.”

George just now realized that he hadn’t moved a bit. “Oh hell, sorry.” He got out of the car as quickly as he could manage. “I’m still a bit confused...”

“No need to apologize, man. Totally get that.” He gave George a slight nod as a sign to follow him when he turned around to walk up to the doorstep. 

When they walked in, George was once again surprised that this was actually Bob’s house. The dim light of a single lightbulb revealed messily painted walls in all sorts of colors and a dark wooden floor that had shoes spread all over it.

“I didn’t clean up here, sorry if it’s all a little messy,” Bob apologized. Before George could answer, he continued: “Also, you can take my bed tonight. I didn’t put clean sheets on the bed in the guest room and you look like you really need some sleep, so, uh... Yeah. Follow me please.” Without saying a word, George walked after Bob who led him to a door. 

Bob was about to leave when George spoke up again. “Hey, thanks. There’s not a lot of people out there who would pick up a confused man from Liverpool... And let him sleep in their bed because he doesn’t have enough money to afford a hotel room.”

They both laughed, but Bob soon shook his head. “It’s no big deal. View this as your own little hotel,” he said, lips curling up to a smile. “You can leave whenever you want. And, if you wanna eat, take whatever you need. I probably won’t be there tomorrow morning, so... Just in case you need anything.”

Upon that, he turned around and left George on his own. The latter put his hand on the door handle and pushed the door open, then quickly walking in. He told himself not to look around too much, he didn’t want to invade Bob’s privacy or anything. And after all, he was just supposed to sleep in here anyways. 

George let his heavy backpack fall to the ground. For the first time since he’d arrived in America, he pulled out his phone. But no matter how hard he pressed the buttons, the display wouldn’t light up. A sigh left his mouth as he began to search his backpack for a charger.

After he’d plugged in his phone, the only thing George felt like doing was to sleep. He let his body fall onto the soft mattress, and without getting the opportunity to cover himself with the blanket or even think about anything else, his eyes fell shut.


	2. Chapter 2

He felt his body stiffen as he slowly came to senses. The dull pain in his limbs blurred his thoughts, George could hardly remember anything that had happened before he fell asleep. The only thing that still wavered around in his mind was that he had woken up several times before, and that it took him far too long to fall asleep again. He opened his eyes, slowly, and tried feeling for his phone next to him. The display lit up as soon as he pressed the home button. Although he tried to concentrate on the time - it was nine in the morning now - he couldn’t ignore all the missed calls.

He was going to check them all later, he decided upon his stomach growling very noticeably. Only when he got up George noticed that he hadn’t changed into proper sleepwear - maybe that was a reason for his body hurting.

For a second he had forgotten that he wasn’t in his own bedroom, but the one that belonged to Bob, the kind man who had taken him with him the night before. Now that he was actually awake, George allowed himself to look around a bit. The curtains were closed, which meant that Bob must have closed them before he had left for work, because George couldn’t remember closing them. He opened them to reveal a bright blue sky above a garden that, he had to admit, looked huge compared to his own. 

The first thing George noticed as he turned around again was the huge painting above the bed that he swore hadn’t been there when he went to sleep. It pictured some pretty, mostly green landscape he’d never seen before. A closer glance at it told him that it wasn’t just any painting - the artist’s signature looked a terrible lot like ‘Bob Dylan’, which he guessed was Bob’s name. George remembered that Bob said he would be somewhere else, so he planned to ask him about it when he came back.

When his stomach growled a second time, he decided to stop looking around in Bob’s room - he still didn’t feel like invading his privacy - and go eat something.

After a while of wandering around the house, George finally found the kitchen. Even though Bob told him he was okay with it and he wasn’t really doing anything wrong in the first place, he felt guilty as he prepared himself some cereal. 

The house was quiet without anyone else around. George remembered seeing a few records and a turntable when he passed the living room and got up as soon as he finished eating. Listening to a bit of music wasn’t going to hurt anyone, right? Plus, he was sure Bob had some good albums.

That thought turned out to be more than true: while looking at all the records Bob had stored in a shelf, George found a lot of those he loved to listen to when he was younger. He hadn’t listened to them in ages, _she_ hated them and probably would have killed him if he’d played them. Or something less extreme. 

He picked Chuck Berry’s album “Berry Is On Top” and put the vinyl on the turntable, the familiar sound of “Almost Grown” filling both his ears and his heart.

Just when he was ready to let the music consume him and dedicate all his attention to it, his missed calls popped up in his head. Right - maybe they were important.

Most calls were from his friends in England, they probably wondered where he was and what he was doing. Instead of calling back though, he sent a message to all of them that said, ‘Hey, needed a break and felt like going somewhere else. I’m in NY & in good hands, don’t worry about me =) xx George’. 

George stopped the record to dial a number in his phone. The person he decided to actually call back was his friend Tom, the only one who lived in America and thus was most possible to even pick up.

“Hello?” Tom’s tired voice croaked from the other end of the telephone line.

George’s lips formed a wide smile. “Hey Tommy. It’s George. You tried to call me...”

Tom seemed relieved, judging by his audible sigh. “Oh, thank god. The others told me to call you because you weren’t home and they were hella worried, man. Where are you?”

“Somewhere in New York,” George replied, not thinking about how weird and absolutely not like the most normal thing in the world it must’ve sounded to Tom.

“Uhm-” Tom stopped for a moment- “What? Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” George couldn’t hold back a giggle, but turned serious just a few seconds after. “It’s been hard back at home, I think I just needed some change. So I hopped on a plane, and... Here I am. But you get that, right Tommy?”

“Yeah... Yeah, I think I do,” Tom answered after a while. “Is it better now? Like, do you feel a bit better?”

“Very tired,” George admitted. “But it’s going better than I thought.”

“Yeah? How come?”

“I have a nice place to stay and don’t have to sleep on the streets or anything because I barely have any money left.” George chuckled. “I fell asleep in this cafe and this barista, his name is Bob, was kind enough to let me sleep at his place. And also, he has a lot of good albums, so there’s some nice tunes to accompany me here, too.”

“That sounds great, George.” Tom’s big smile was audible even through the phone speaker. “If you ever feel lonely or anything,” he continued and George could hear his smile growing even bigger, “just tell me where you are and I’ll come by. Had some business in New York this week anyway.”

“Oh Tommy!” George exclaimed. “That’d be amazing. Text me when you’re there?”

“Sure thing. Mind if I go back to bed now?”

“Oh shoot, did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, but no big deal. Have a nice day,” Tom spoke with a soft, genuine voice.

George suddenly felt all giddy inside and couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “You sleep well!”

“Will do.” He hung up.

Talking to Tom was always a delight, George thought. He was always nice, and even though he could act like an idiot sometimes - which George wasn’t particularly bad at either - it was just the perfect amount to still be lovable. Tom was a great friend, and he’d been by George’s side for several years now, George couldn’t imagine a life without him anymore. He was entirely sure there was no one like Tom out there - he could consider himself very lucky.

The first thing George did after putting away his phone was start the Chuck Berry record a second time. He sat down on the rug next to the stack of books the turntable was balanced on and leaned against the wall. 

He hadn’t done this in way too long: just sitting by the record player and listening to the music, and doing nothing else. He couldn’t even remember the last time he spent only listening to music, letting his whole body melt into it. It felt amazing, almost like flying. George loved how music did that, how you could lose yourself in it and forget everything else.

George got shaken out of his trance when he heard the door open. He sneaked a look at the time on his phone, only to find out that it was now midday - 1:43PM.

Only a few seconds after, Bob entered the room. He looked like he didn’t put much thought or effort into his casual clothing. One half of his partly unbuttoned shirt was tucked into his striped pants; a leather jacket and leather boots completed the outfit.

“I see you’ve found the turntable?” He said, just the hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah.” George turned his head for a second to see which record was playing. “You like Buddy Holly?”

Bob just nodded and came a little closer. The leather squeaked as he sat down in front of George, and he looked a little uncomfortable while doing so. Without saying a word, he grabbed the albums next to the record player, the ones George had listened to, and looked at them. “You have good taste,” he muttered after a while, not looking up from the records in his hands.

George couldn’t help but smile at that comment. He was about to answer when he remembered what he’d wanted to ask. “Bob?” Bob’s blue eyes looked up immediately, their gaze on the man sitting across him. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face was enough for George to continue. “The painting in your room... Did you paint it?”

Instead of answering, Bob laughed.

“What’s so funny about that?” George raised his eyebrows, he didn’t understand.

“Ah, nothing,” Bob replied, slowly calming down. “Nothing funny. Just thought I did something wrong, whatever. Yeah, it’s my painting.”

“It’s very pretty,” George smiled, stopping Bob from looking down again. “Where is it?”

“It’s just about an hour from here.” Bob started sorting the records back into the shelf, but looked back to George when he continued, “You wanna go there?”

“When? Right now?”

Bob shrugged. “Whenever you want to.”

“Right now sounds great.” George tried to hold back a smile, but failed miserably. He was straight up beaming at Bob now.

“Don’t smile like that,” Bob chuckled, slightly rolling his eyes. “I’m not used to this,” he added quietly. George didn’t understand what he meant, and he didn’t bother to ask - it was probably none of his business anyway.

He finished putting the albums back into place before he got up, the leather of his jacket squeaking again. “Well then, uh. I’d love to be your cab today.” He doffed his imaginary hat and turned around to leave the room only a split second after. 

Bob didn’t seem to be used to talking at all, George thought. Maybe he was just shy. George shook the thought away and got up, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a flashback chapter to get a little insight on George’s relationship,,

“What’s on your mind, George?” 

George sat down on the couch, guitar in hand. “Nothing, I just can’t concentrate right now.” He could feel his friends’ looks on him, but couldn’t bear looking back at them. He did have a lot on his mind, and he knew that they knew, but something held him back. Only when he felt an arm around him, he looked up. His friend Paul had sat down next to him, now blinking at him with his hazel eyes and long eyelashes.

“Come on, I know there’s something wrong.” He pulled George closer. Now the other two, John and Ringo, sat down on the couch as well. George could feel it bending down, and he knew it would touch the ground if someone else joined them.

“You can talk to us about everything,” Ringo said, his strong hands finding their way to George’s thighs and gently stroking them to make him calm down a bit.

Paul nodded. “Yeah, we’re your best friends, y’know?” George chuckled. Paul had a habit of adding ‘y’know’ to every second sentence, and he knew George found it amusing - after a while, George had learned to figure out when Paul said it on purpose.

“I think it’s Alice,” John said, staring at the other side of the room. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Alice. George’s girlfriend, fiancée, wife-to-be. He had come to play music with his friends so he wouldn’t have to think about her, yet here he was. Everyone noticed something was off, and George knew he would feel bad if he didn’t tell them what was wrong. 

Alice and him had been struggling for quite some time. Fighting and yelling had become a daily thing for them, with music being the only escape for George. Alice never liked it - she said he spent too much money on new instruments, too much time playing and too much time with his friends. She said he never had time for her, which they both knew wasn’t true. Whenever he did have time, he tried to spend it with her. But in the past weeks, months even, the time spent with her started to feel like a chore, like something forced him to do it although he didn’t want to. Everything he did for her seemed to be wrong, she never appreciated it, but George loved her nonetheless.

Some days, they’d sit on the couch and watch movies together. And they would eat popcorn and try to concentrate on the movie plot, but all they could focus on was each other. It would feel like they had just gotten together, and in moments like these, George fell in love with her all over again, forgetting about all the troubles.

But this only lasted a few days; after that, it would start going downhill again. George would come back home from his band’s rehearsal room, and Alice would yell at him because he’d been away for five hours instead of two. He’d promise to spend the evening with her, cook her food, but then she’d say she had already planned to meet up with her friends and George would spend the evening alone. 

They had planned to marry, and George hoped that would make it all work out again, but Alice already seemed like she had lost hope. At this point, George was only waiting for her to call it quits. He knew it was going to happen, but he didn’t have the guts to do it himself.

It was hard to keep up the image of a perfect relationship, when it wasn’t.

“It is because of Alice,” he spoke up after a while.

“What did she do now?” Ringo seemed annoyed, he knew Alice could lose her temper sometimes, but George never told any of them how bad it actually was. 

Before George could brush it off by saying ‘the usual’, before he could even think about what to say, he had already poured it all out over them. Face hid in his hands, he sank down in the couch, hoping to disappear completely if he just thought of it hard enough. “God, sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, buddy,” Paul said, his arm tightening around George.

“He’s right,” John agreed, causing George to look up at him. “It’s important to let it all out sometimes. Can’t grow if you bottle it up, eh?”

George nodded, a slight smile spreading on his lips. “I guess you’re right.” He freed himself from Paul’s and Ringo’s grips and slowly got up from the couch. “I think I should go now though.”

“You don’t want to play another song?” Ringo asked. George just shook his head in response, knowing he’d understand. He didn’t want Alice to be mad again, and the others didn’t want to be the reason for it. 

John spoke up as George turned to leave. “Hey man,” he said, “take care of yourself.”

“You can always come to us if she’s getting on your nerves,” Paul added, making George chuckle a little.

“Thank you.”

As soon as he started his car, George’s body started tensing up. It wasn’t too late yet, but he knew Alice would be upset either way. The radio was pumping through the speakers as he drove along the road, as fast as he could, trying to forget about his relationship for a while. It worked, but not for long. He soon reached his house, his and Alice’s house. A sigh left his lips when he turned off the radio. He didn’t want to get out of the car just yet.

He hesitated a lot when he was near his house. With everything he did, he felt like he had to think twice. Was it right to open the car door like that, and was it too loud when he slammed it shut? Was he walking too slowly, were the neighbors suspecting anything, did they know about him and Alice? Was it the right time to open the door, or should he wait a little? Did he fiddle with his keys for too long? Maybe he thought too much, but he couldn’t help it when there was the possibility of Alice watching his every move.

George stepped in the hallway, just waiting for Alice’s high voice shrieking from the kitchen. But nothing happened. He exhaled in relief. It wasn’t too often he’d have the house for himself, but when he did, it was like someone had taken a heavy weight from his shoulders. 

His fingers slid across the wall until they reached the light switch. The dim light was just enough to light up about seventy percent of the hallway, he should have changed it a while ago already, but he never got around to do it. Most of the light fell on the pictures on the wall. He sighed as he looked at them. Pictures of him and Alice, smiling into the camera. Some of them at the beach, some at family meetings, some by professional photographers. They looked happy, and when those photos were taken, they probably were. 

Alice was pretty. Tall, blonde hair, hazel eyes, freckles on her nose and cheeks. George always thought she could have been a model of some sort, and he had told her several times. She never believed him. She wasn’t very confident, but George had made sure to tell her that she was gorgeous every second they had together. She was still pretty, sure, and he still loved how she looked, yet telling her did feel wrong, like it was a lie.

Keys jingling behind the door interrupted his train of thought. Alice. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HH you probably noticed but Alice is an OC because i rlly didn’t want to make Olivia or pattie hurt George <\\\3


	4. Chapter 4

The car tunes came playing through the speakers again when Bob started the car. George leaned back in his seat, and he immediately felt something in his guts - a feeling he’d practically forgotten about. Even though he’d only sat in this car once before, coming back to it almost felt like returning home.

As they were driving a rocky road through what seemed to be a forest, Bob nervously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Uhm, George?” He asked after a while. “That was your name, right?” He spoke quietly, not taking his eyes off the road in front of him.

George chuckled slightly, although on the inside, he was worried. Had he done something wrong? “Yes, that’s my name. What’s up?”

“I don’t, uh,“ Bob seemed to struggle with his words, and cleared his throat before he continued, “I don’t want to offend you or anything, but, uh... why are you here?” He looked at George through the corner of his eye for only a split second.

George didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-“ Bob’s fingertips hit the steering wheel once again- “Why are you in America? It’s not like, uh... I don’t know, you just barely have anything with you and it seems a little weird to me. Sorry.” His voice cracked at the last word.

“It’s a little complicated,” George muttered, staring at the trees ahead of them. Was it too early to tell him? Could he even trust Bob? He was nice, but George hardly knew anything about him; still, he felt like he owed him something, after all he’d done for him. “My girlfriend broke up with me like, a week ago. My fiancée actually, we wanted to marry soon.”

Bob didn’t say anything, but George could sense that there was a lot going on inside of him, even without looking at him.

“We fought a lot, but I... somehow I thought it would work out. Well-“ a quiet sigh left his lips- “It didn’t. She just said it was over and left, just like that... Threw the ring away and that was it. I guess I couldn’t stand it anymore, back at home, you know? Had to get out of there.” George only realized what he said after the words had left his mouth, now lingering in the air. He hoped so desperately he could just suck them in again, and make them unheard, but he knew it was too late. “God, I’m sorry about that...” He held on to his own hand, his grip tightening with every second.

“Jesus Christ.” Bob opened his mouth to let out a hoarse giggle. “You didn’t have to tell me your whole life story right here, man.”

“Sorry,” George mumbled, relaxing a little. “I just... I thought I owed you something.”

“For what?”

“You’ve been so nice to me, Bob.” George turned his head to look at Bob, who was still staring straight forward. “I don’t think anyone else would have gone out of their way to do all of this.” He wildly gestured around the car, making Bob smirk.

“And you thought talking about your private life was perfect for that, or-?” He finally turned his head for a few seconds to look at George. “I’m sorry that happened to you though,” he added after his eyes met the road again. “Must suck.”

“It does.”

They drove for a while without exchanging any words, and George just knew it was because of what he had said. What if he had made Bob uncomfortable? What if he hated him now, after what hadn’t even been a day?

Bob stopped the car in the middle of the forest they were in. “We’d have to walk from here,” he said. “I mean, if you still want to.”

“Of course I do,” George answered, a smile spreading out on his lips while he unbuckled his seat belt. He felt as if a giant rock had fallen off his chest.

“Good.” Bob nodded as he got out of the car, waiting for George to follow.

Proceeding through the greens, George was too busy trying to keep up with Bob that he didn’t even pay attention to where or for how long they were going. He only came back to reality when he bumped into Bob who had suddenly stopped. Before he could apologize, Bob stopped him with a “Don’t say the S-word again.” George couldn’t help but chuckle in response.

“Anyway,” Bob continued, “here we are.” Him and George both let their eyes wander across the forest clearing in front of them. The golden sun beams shone through the trees onto the grass, and George was sure he could see a few deer in the distance.

He found it was much more impressive like that than in Bob’s painting. “It’s beautiful,” he said under his breath. “How did you find this?”

Bob hesitated a few seconds before he replied, “I don’t remember.” George didn’t know if that was true, but he decided not to ask. Instead, he went a few steps deeper into the grass and sat down when he found the right spot. “The hell are you doing?” Bob asked, not moving a bit. “Do you want bugs crawling up your ass?”

George laughed. “No, but it’s nice here-“ he waved at Bob, telling him to come over to him- “Come on, why don’t you sit down here too?”

“Why should I?” Bob replied, but did step closer with a sigh. He took off his leather jacket and spread it out on the grass before he finally sat down, too. “So, why are we doing this?”

“Does everything need a reason? Look-“ George let an ant crawl on his hand and showed it to Bob- “I think I’ll call this one Bob.” His lips curled into a smile.

“I suppose you don’t have a reason for that, do you?” Although Bob did seem a little annoyed, the tone of his voice was rather amused, which only reassured George.

“I do, actually. You see, ants are really cool,” he explained, not leaving Bob’s namesake out of sight for a second. “They’re super strong, and they’re important for our ecosystem. We couldn’t live without them.”

“That doesn’t explain the name,” Bob muttered. When George stole a glance at him, he saw that he, too, was eyeing the ant on George’s hand.

“Your name is Bob,” George joked, as if Bob didn’t already know.

A chuckle left Bob’s mouth. “So? I’m none of what you just said.”

“I think you’re cool,” George smiled as he let Bob the ant down again. His eyes were now locked on the human version of Bob, who returned the gaze, just far more confused than George.

“You don’t know me,” he said. “I could be a huge dick and you wouldn’t know.” He smirked a little as he finished his sentence, but tried his best to hide his teeth.

George just shook his head. “If you were, you would have let me rot at the cafe. You’re kind and very, very cool. Deal with it,” he said, trying to stay serious. But right after he had spoken out the last word, he broke out in laughter.

The time passed by a lot faster than George would have expected it to. They had sat there in the grass for what felt like an eternity and three seconds at the same time. George had picked up several other ants and bugs, just to tell Bob everything he knew about those little animals, and Bob listened to him ramble like Alice had never done. George’s favorite moment was a bee flying past them - he got so happy about it, because ‘bees are such amazing little creatures,’ he said, and ‘everything about them just radiates happiness’. And when Bob gave him a smile, the one where his teeth were visible, although it was only for a split second, George felt like he had earned it. Bob didn’t seem like someone who would smile at anyone (like George usually did), but it made the moments he did smile feel a lot more genuine.

“The days are getting longer,” Bob noticed after a while. It was the beginning of March, just a few days after George’s birthday.

Only now did he notice that Alice had really broken up with him so close to his birthday - two days before his first birthday, to be exact. His birthday was a pretty complicated situation. When he was younger, he had thought he was born around midnight, but it turned out he was born shortly before 12PM. And so, because he was ‘already used to his original birthday’, his family declared he should get a second one. He didn’t like it at first though, he just wanted to celebrate his actual birthday, but they insisted on it. And that was that.

“Yeah,” George said under his breath, his throat tightening as he wasted another thought on Alice.

Bob looked at him with a blank expression, then asking “‘s something wrong?” in an almost forcefully concerned tone.

George shook his head as he pushed himself up from the ground. “No, I’m alright,” he lied, and Bob didn’t ask any further questions.

He got up as well before he did raise his voice, “Do you want to go back?” George only nodded in response.


End file.
